we play games with guns (valorant)

chapter 8

Killjoy pivoted on her heel, brought her elbow to Yoru's throat. Facing him, she forced Yoru's wrist to the side and clutched the gun from his hands. She thought about plunging the gun down Yoru's esophagus and screaming, laughing, pulling the trigger.

The jailor was holding her neck, above her larynx.

The vigilante was stabbing the muzzle in his direction. "Get the hell out. I see you back here again, you'll be a corpse and a puddle."

Someone had power over you, someone leaned over you with their foot on your neck, you gave them a hard kick in the balls.

Circumstances changed. Whether it was for the better or worse was up to you.

Yoru sludged over to the side of the lawn and wiped his sweaty forehead.

Klara knew the town would be on her ass tomorrow. That was okay.

One hour later; 1:30 AM. Yoru dusted his vest off from the grass and pollen. Killjoy must've watered her plants, or something. It was making his skin itchy.

He wouldn't let his failure deter him. The jailor opened the door to House Four; he would follow a different protocol this time. Psychological.

"Chamber! Jailor's here."

Chamber was hurrying over from the bedroom, a small blanket draped over his shoulders. He was holding a cup of hot chocolate; there was a dainty swirl of whipped cream on top. "Got it!" Chamber set the mug down and greeted Yoru with a big grin. "How's your night?"

It was a big contrast to his other convict. Yoru couldn't deny it surprised him- he didn't even have to try. "It's not bad. Come with me, we'll talk."

Vincent took the mug with him and followed Ryo out the door.

"Why were you still home, Chamber?"

"I usually meditate for a couple of hours before leaving."

"That's inconvenient for us. You should go earlier, you might miss some information." The jailor drew back his door and let Vincent step in first.

Chamber sighed heavily, as if he was expecting this. "I have this handheld camera thing. I can see what goes on. Plus, I'm not gonna be staring at it 24/7."

"That's fair." Yoru set up a netted screen between two chairs. It was like a confession booth. Except the priest was also a sinner. They sat in their respective chairs; Yoru settled himself and crossed his legs before starting, "Your role? With your will."

"I'm a spy. Do you trust me?"

Yoru stayed silent.

Chamber continued, "Night One, I'm spying on Fade. Wish me luck. Night Two, I'm spying on Raze, nothing happened, no blackmails, Killjoy and Jett with Yoru." Vincent threw a hand up, he hissed, "Can we move this divider? It's frivolous."

"No." The jailor flicked his hand toward the spy. "Give me the note." He knocked on the wooden frame.

Chamber obliged broodingly. Yoru read what was written. He raised his eyes, met Chamber's. "Do you trust Jett?"

"Her sheriff claim? Yes. I don't trust Killjoy."

"One of those three are lying, correct?" Ryo repeated what he thought Vincent had meant. The spy was one to sink under a lot of pressure.

Chamber felt a sour taste on his tongue. He felt miserable, like he was throwing his friends under the bus. But what did they care? They wouldn't be here to hear him. His reply was cautious, "I guess so."

"Remind me, what was the vigilante doing at my house last night?"

"Nothing, from what I remember. I think she was watching you. And Jett." Vincent's hands were placed on his thighs; he looked modest and genuine.